


Passion is for Whiskey

by wordaddiction



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Courfeyrac's strange ability, Drabble, Gen, drinking game, shots, this is short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordaddiction/pseuds/wordaddiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short drabble based on the prompt: "Courfeyrac and Grantaire create a drinking game out of Enjolras' speeches."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passion is for Whiskey

"How many times do you think he’s said ‘equality’ tonight?" Courfeyrac asked lightly as he slid into a seat beside Grantaire. He held a bottle to his lips, eyes bright as he looked on at their golden haired leader, who was delivering a valiant speech to the whole of the cafe. Enjolras’ face was determined, angry even, as he waved his hands about and spoke of the freedom of France. Grantaire smirked and raised his own bottle to his lips, but not before teasingly responding to his friend. 

"Not half as many times as he’s mentioned his beloved ‘Patria’," he said.

"Or perhaps the downfall of our hierarchy, the rise of the people, the injustice of the bureaucracy," 

"You could deliver his speeches yourself," the cynic laughed. Courfeyrac gave a warm smile, then turned in his seat swiftly, as if he had suddenly thought of a brilliant revelation. 

"Two shots of whisky, mademoiselle," he purred at Musichetta with a mischievous wink. She rolled her eyes, but obliged him in his request, setting the two small glasses down before them. Grantaire raised his eyebrow curiously.

"Shots?" he asked.

"For every time I can predict what Enjolras is about to say before he says it," 

Grantaire tilted his head skeptically. He was always up for any game that involved alcohol, but this seemed counterproductive. There was no way that Courfeyrac could provide enough accurate predictions of what the blonde was going to say to get them drunk, which was the whole point of a drinking game. “Are you paying?” 

"If he can actually do that enough to intoxicate the two of you, the drinks are on me. I want to see this," Musichetta mused, leaning her elbow on the bar. 

"You’re an absolute peach, darling,” Courfeyrac beamed, swiping a kiss on her cheek. She sighed heavily, but made no further objections. When you find yourself friends with Courfeyrac, you have to grow accustomed to his incessant flirting. 

"Right. Let’s go, then," Grantaire urged, waiting expectantly. He watched as Courfeyrac seemed to send himself to a realm of deep focus and concentration, staring dutifully at Enjolras. After perhaps a minute, he took in a deep breath and poised himself to speak. 

"And we cannot, then, allow the monarchy to spend such outrageous amounts of attention on the aristocrats and wealthy," he recited, in perfect sync with the fiery leader. Grantaire gave a slow clap, truly awed by the accuracy of his words. 

"I’m impressed," he said, grinning. 

"Drink up,"

The artist did not hesitate to down the shot of alcohol before him, which Musichetta quickly refilled. 

"Lucky guess," she mumbled. 

Courfeyrac took her words as a challenge, returning his gaze to Enjolras eagerly. Moments later, he spoke again. “Your fathers may shun you, your mothers disown you, but there is no truer mother than France herself. You must pay her what she is due, earn her the liberty she cannot take for herself,” 

Both Musichetta and Grantaire stared at him, their lips parted in shock. Courfeyrac had only stumbled over a select few words, imitating Enjolras to near perfection. 

"Have you heard him say this before?"

"I swear to Patria I have not,” he grinned. R shrugged and threw back his head, gulping down the shot in one quick motion. His flirtatious friend soon followed suit. 

As the night wore on, Courfeyrac continued to prove his uncanny ability to seemingly read Enjolras’ mind. The two got ever drunker, and eventually Musichetta had to cut them off. Partly because their level of inebriation and partly because she was starting to feel the effect of their game on her whisky supply. Both voiced loud complaints on the matter, but were otherwise too drunk to care about much of anything. 

"Have you even heard a word I’ve said?" Enjolras’ voice cut into their drunken banter. Neither had noticed the man approach them, or that most of the cafe had cleared out and gone home for the night. The blonde stood looming over them with a disapproving look etched into his face. Courfeyrac glanced at Grantaire and stifled a laugh. 

"More than you know," he assured.


End file.
